


Broken Lovers with the Poison Cup

by Dusty_Forgotten



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M, Inspired by Music, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 13:44:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1187451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty_Forgotten/pseuds/Dusty_Forgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's sick, and the Courier knows it, but she can't help but falling for Benny. Little does she know, he's falling for her, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Lovers with the Poison Cup

**Author's Note:**

> [Vampire Smile by Kyla la Grange](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7mFXfiSoKl0)

_Bang!_

...And it’s done. He looks down at the poor girl and chews on his lips, drying for the first time in years- the first time he’s touched Mojave dust and sun since they went from the Boot Riders to the Charimen. Her eyes are open and scared as blood runs down her face and into the dirt, and heswore he would never go back to doing this-

A Khan kicks her into the grave and starts shoveling in dirt, while Benny steps back, turns away, and lights a cigarette.He didn’t want to do this, but she was firmly planted in his way, and she just had to go. She’d begged him not to kill her. Said she needed to save the Wasteland.

It’s cold, on desert nights. He’d forgotten that...

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...He was so nice. She had wanted him to be some other bad guy she could just rid the world of, move on, but he wasn’t. Benny was sorry for what he continued to do, because he’s just trying to save Vegas, and that made him a lot like her.

She smiles down at him and grips the headboard while he circles his thumb around that bundle of nerves most men never bother to find. It’s funny how he manages to babble, breathing as heavy as he is while she grinds against him, chattering things like “You’re platinum, pussycat.”, “You really know how to swing!” and then “Hold on tight, baby, I’ve still got a trick up my sleeve.”

Benny grabs her thighs to hold her steady, and thrusts into her, bed squeaking at the finish-line pace he sets. Erin doesn’t even miss his hand, now that he’s hitting the inverse spot inside her while she whimpers “yes, yes, yes!”

“Oh, you are beautiful, baby, 18-karat!”

She silences at that.

_“From where you’re kneeling, it must seem like an 18-karat run of bad luck, but the truth is...”_

She presses both her hands to his throat, cutting off all air.

_“The game was rigged from the start.”_

He tumbles into his orgasm, gasping uselessly, one hand clutching her leg, while the other- pulls her down, flush against him. It’s tender, and affectionate, and Erin knows then that he genuinely wouldn’t have hurt her if he didn’t have to. She lets him go, and rolls off.

Benny coughs, and gasps, before sitting up finally. “I don’t know where you learned that,” he says, rolling over to smile at her, “but I am sure glad you did.”

She smiled back, more concealed beneath hers. He was an absolute...

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 _...Fink!_ Benny mentally chastised. After all the things she had been through- all the things he had caused, and he ditches her in the morning with a note. A note! Like some cheap Gomorrah-girl he’s ashamed of. She clings in her sleep; snuggles right up against whatever’s there and holds on for dear life, like she’s afraid she’ll wake up alone, or somewhere else, or won’t wake up at all.

And he pulls himself out of her arms and leaves her like that. _Fink!_

But he’ll fix it for her. For everyone, really. If this worked, he would take the Strip, and take her with him, because she isn’t just a tiger in the sheets: she’s a lion in the grass.

Like he used to be.

That’s what makes him admire her, like he admires the Wasteland- she is beauty, and she is mercy, and she will kill you if you let her.

She won’t kill him, though.

She doesn’t want to...

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 _...Gut him like a fish!_ Erin’s mind roils.

Blue eyes glower down at the former Boot Rider. He’s just a confidence-man with a stupid jacket, now, that can’t let go. “I was going to kill you in bed, you corny son of a bitch.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you.” he admitted.

Her lip quirked up in a sneer she didn’t want to show. “How do you want it?”

He smiles tentatively. “None of the above? All I really need are a couple bobby pins and a stealth boy to-”

“Can it. I don’t need to tell you what you did.”

He deflates; it was a long-shot anyway. “If you’re gonna do it, just make it quick.”

The Courier gets down on one knee, grabs him by the jacket, and rips the thin threads holding the buttons on and jacket closed. “What are you-?” he begins. Then she finds what she wants.

He’s staring down the barrel of his own gun, and she’s the only thing blocking the sunlight. Benny manages a half-smile at that, because if he’s gotta a die, it’s better that it’s Maria, and it’s better that it’s Erin. “Don’t miss.”

She lines up for dead between the eyes, like he had tried for, except her hand’s not shaking, and there’s no fear or regret in her eyes, like he knows there had to be in his. She’s done this a hundred times before, and he ventures to think, maybe, more than he has.

“I’m sorry it had to end up like this, pussycat.” he says, and closes his eyes.

He waits.

She says “Crucify him.”

Thinking back, Benny knows he should have fought, or cursed her out, or something to piss her off enough that she would have blown his head off. Anything would be better than this. The sun’s down now, at least, no matter how purple and numb his hands are getting.

She comes to look at him, to silently brag triumph under the monument of his body as it slowly tears. “Go away.” he mutters, because he can still talk, for now. He knows that won’t last.

“Shut up.” she says, casually, like he’s an old friend and that’s just one of their games. Like he’s not dying.

“Or what, huh? You’ll kill me?” She loses interest halfway through his sentence, and starts poking at her Pip-Boy. “Don’t you even care? God, look at me!”

She stays silent for a moment, then looks up at him and smiles, as innocent as she did before she ever met Maria. “Shut up, or I might change my mind.”

There’s a flash, and she’s gone.

Then he’s gone, too. He can’t see his hands, but he knows they’re there, because the feeling’s coming back, to the sensation of her hand in his, pulling insistently along. He can’t see his legs either, but they must be there, because they’re carrying him as quickly as they can as she leads him invisibly through the camp.

Her stealth boy fizzes out just a moment before his, behind a few tents on the north shore. There’s a raft waiting for them. She rows.

“This is the second time I didn’t kill you when I really wanted to.” she mentions when they’re far enough from the camp that they look like just another reflection on the lake.

“Probably should have.”

“I’ve let you live twice now, Benny.” she says, and he loves his name on her lips, almost as much as he loves his lips there. “Don’t give me the choice again.”

“I won’t. I’m leaving, and never...”

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“...Coming back? Are you outta your mind, Ben?”

“Might be.” he says, smiling.

Swank just shakes his head again. “Give me one good reason not to throw you out.”

“I gotta talk to the Courier.”

He snickers. “How d’you think that’s gonna go? Wise up, Ben. She’ll kill you.”

“Only if you aren’t doing your job right, and she got in with a gun. Which reminds me-” Benny jokes, setting a 12.7 pistol on the counter, “guess I lost my carrying privileges, eh?”

“Hell yes. And she can kill with or without a gun.”

“Look, I know, she’s got skills.”

“Have you seen what she can do with her bare hands?” Swank responds, eyes narrowing. He’s got kind of a babyface, but Benny’s seen that look on it while they cut throats with the Riders, and right now, Swank is ready to _cut throats_.

It hits Benny then that Swank’s trying to protect her. It seems almost like an insult to her in Benny’s eyes. He knows she can take care of herself.

He knows he can’t push Swank around anymore, either, so he switches tactics. “C’mon, pally! For old times’ sake?”

Swank lays one arm flat on the counter and leans over, other hand resting on his hip- on his gun. “As I remember, “old times” was you stabbing us all in the back. No thanks. Now get outta my casino.”

Benny swallows; Swank had manned up, and now it was _his_ casino- so long as the Courier let him have it. Benny had lost it, either way, the moment he laid down with her. She owned everyone, Ben-man included.

Which wasn’t so bad, really.

“Hold it, Swank.” another voice cut in.

Now, he’d dreamed of seeing her again, but never thought he would. There she was, Queen of the Wasteland. In a _dress_ , too.

It’s a tight black thing with red frills and a split up the side he’d love to run his hand up, her hair done up in clean pin-curls. She looks like the best piece of the Strip.

She’s wearing combat boots and his jacket, and every inch of exposed skin is criss-crossed with scars. It makes her look like a tribal warrior.

She looks like every Strip family’s old and new fantasies had a beautiful trainwreck.

He swallows, and smiles again. “Long time, no see, baby.”

Erin squares her shoulders and crosses her arms, right hand tucked just barely under her jacket. It’s looser on her, but he knows she’s brushing Maria. “I thought you left.”

“Yeah, and he’s about to be going again.” Swank adds while Benny’s having trouble remembering the words he chose on the trip back here. He knows they’d jumble out wrong, anyway.

There’s a starburst scar above her temple, and he knows where it came from. She’s ready to give him one just like it. That wouldn’t be so bad, he thinks. At least he got to see...

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 _...Him again._ Erin thinks. _He’s a dumbass for coming back here._

She knew he would. He’s not a tribal anymore- never really had been, if she read him right. He’s a con-man, and Vegas is the best place for them.

She knows better, though. House is dead, and Yes Man’s MIA, and she already has Dean Domino and the Omertas to worry about seizing the city before she can lead the Legion to the Dam.

“Relax, Swank. I’ve got ‘im.” she says, and Benny cracks a smile for that. She grabs the 12.7, grabs his sleeve, and kicks open the door, pulling him into the street, and he is _not_ the type of guy to be led around by a woman, but she’s not the type of woman to care.

She spins him around, and balls her left hand in the front of his plain grey suit. “Do you have any idea how stupid you are? Everyone thinks you’re dead!”

“Why’d you tell ‘em that?”

“Why would I tell them you were a traitor? Bad for business.” she hisses. Benny breathes deeply, eyeing the securitrons pacing the Strip- _upgraded_ securitrons- and cracks a smile. She followed his sight line, and lets go of his now-wrinkled suit. “Come on.” she says, moving down the Strip. His 12.7 pistol is still clutched by her side.

She leads him into the Lucky 38. After all of his plans, and she _lets him in_. It’s dark, and dusty, and empty, and completely silent. Erin slacks her shoulders, turns to him, and holds the gun straight out. His own gun, in her hand, again. He should have expected this, really, should have known she-

She flips it around, holding the muzzle herself, butt towards him. Her face is a controlled blankness, but he can see the flex of her jaw, the way her blue eyes stay too-wide. _She’s scared._

Benny takes the gun slowly, and takes a moment to decide what to say. “You’re really taking a chance letting me in here.”

“I know I am.” the courier says, praying, _praying_ , that she handles this right, because she doesn’t want to kill him here, not after she’s done so much to keep him alive. “I don’t think you’re going to take it, though.”

He eyes his pistol for another moment before slipping it in the holster at his side. “Not yet.”

Erin lets out a breath, and wraps her arms around him. “I’m absolutely out of my mind.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, pulling her in closer. “You’re not the only one.”

And she would love to stay there, close against him, where she’s wanted to be since he left, because he’s the one that’s wanted her for more than a night, for more than a few nights.

He wants her for the days, too. That’s all she’s ever wanted.

But she knows it won’t last. She’s too smart to delude herself otherwise. Benny ruined her once, and he will do it again, if she gets in his way, and she _will_ get in his way. Her moral compass is too strong (if not a little off-north) to let him do the wrong thing.

Courier Six pulls away, turns away, and crosses her arms. “You need to leave.”

Benny reaches out and touches her back, her jacket, _his_ jacket while she drops her hands down in front of her. “I get it. Can I at least stay the night? Promise I won’t run out on you this time.”

“No. If you stay, you won’t be able to stop yourself from trying to take Vegas,” she says, adjusting her grip on Maria in front of her, “and I’m not sure if I’ll stop you...”


End file.
